The Doctor Alone
by Vengeance Author
Summary: When Sherlock is accused of a crime that he didn't commit, John Watson must work fast to clear his name. But at every corner seems to be the face of Moriart, taunting him by making things more difficult. Will John succeed or be cut short by Moriarty?
1. FRAMED

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: In order to fully understand this story, you must first read "This Should Be Alluring" chapters 37-40 on Time Lord Victorious' page. Don't worry; reading those will not ruin the rest of the story. They are independent of all but a few random chapters before them. And this is written with full consent to use her characters. Or what is left of them at least._

FRAMED

_JOHN_

I wake to the sound of Sherlock calling my name4, telling me to get up and get dressed. Apparently we had a case.

I look at my clock and groan Three o'clock in the morning

Wishing I could just tell him to sod off, I reluctantly get up and get dressed as fast I can before rushing downstairs where I find a cab waiting for us.

I climb in and look at him expectantly but he is too distracted by the phone from Moriarty, almost as though he is expecting it to ring any moment. But in an anticlimax, it remains silent the entire journey.

When we arrive, I am shocked to see we are at the pool we had been at only a few hours earlier with Hannah and Michael. "Sherlock, you don't think that Moriarty…"

My voice breaks off mid sentence.

"It looks as though he did, John."

Bracing myself for the worst, I put on a brave face and walk in behind Sherlock.

When we get to the pool side, we are greeted coldly by Sergeant Donovan. "Freaks. What are _you_ two doing here?"

Sherlock can't restrain himself from insulting her intelligence. "Because unlike you, Lestrade values the opinion of those who are cleverer than himself. And unlike anyone with the Yard, I don't make mistakes."

She can't help but return with an equally cutting remark. "What about Moriarty?" she asks incredulous. "If you don't make mistakes how come we haven't seen or heard from him since his 'games'? Why don't we have him behind bars?"

At that moment, DI Lestrade came up, saving us from Donovan's questions. "We don't have time for this. In case you haven't noticed, this is a crime scene. We have two dead children, Sherlock, apparently drowned, if you'll come this way.

We follow him to the edge of the pool were I see the dead bodies of Hannah and Michael. I bite my tongue to prevent giving away the fact that I had met them previously.

Sherlock immediately sets about examining every detail to identify whatever he could about their deaths. He checks their mouths, then their skin for discoloration. He then examines the abrasions on their wrists.

The last thing he does is depress their chests. Water spills forth from their lifeless lips.

"Oh, he is _CLEVER_," says Sherlock. "Very clever indeed."

"Excuse me Sherlock, if I don't find this 'clever' as you termed it, but this is a murder scene," interrupted Lestrade. "So if you could please tell mu what you can see, it would be much appreciated."

"These children weren't _drowned_!" exclaims Sherlock as though we are all incredibly dense. They were _poisoned_, with cyanide. You can see the burns on the inside of their mouths."

"Does anybody else find it suspicious that the first place he checked was their mouths?" asks Donovan. "Doesn't that strike anybody else as odd?"

"Oh, like I would kill them on the night I saved their lives."

This revelation shocks everyone in the room, except me.

"You've met these children before, Sherlock?" asks Lestrade.

"A few times," responds Sherlock nonchalantly. "Moriarty seemed to think they were important to me. So he kidnapped Hannah to bait Michael and I. But I pulled a stunt he hadn't expected and managed to save their lives. Moriarty got away and I figured they were safe. Looks like Moriarty had a contingency plan."

"Or you wanted to prove Moriarty wrong," says Donovan. "If he even exists. All we have to go on that is your word, and the word John." She turns to face Lestrade. "Sir, all the evidence we have points to Sherlock. We don't even know if there is such a person as Moriarty!"

Lestrade weighs this in his mind before saying to Donovan, "Very well, Donovan, arrest him. Sherlock Homes you are hereby charged with the murders of Hannah Jones and Michael Roberts. Sherlock struggled like mad as Donovan cuffed him. "You've got the wrong man!" he yelled. "It was Moriarty" I swear to God. It wasn't me!"

By that point they had taken outside.

And despite the rest of the investigators still present, I felt as though I was the loneliest man on Earth.


	2. ALONE

ALONE

_JOHN_

Gone. They had taken Sherlock. The one person who could put Moriarty behind bars was now on his way to prison, possibly for the remainder of his life. And the only other person who cared enough to do anything and could do something about it was probably still asleep.

Looking up, I see the pink phone lying on the ground next to Hannah's lifeless body.

That sneaky bastard! He hadn't been struggling; he had been dropping the phone from his pocket!

Picking up the phone, I am tempted to just throw it in the pool. Nut there had to be a reason that he wanted to have it. But I had no idea what that reason was. It had remained silent since Moriarty had disappeared.

Still unsure of its importance, I shove it in my pocket and walk outside. After walking just a few blocks in the general direction of Baker Street, a black sedan with tinted windows pulls up. On of the front windows rolls down slightly and a voice from within says, "Dr. Watson? You are wanted for a meeting, if you would please get in."

Knowing full well who the meeting was to be with, I slide into back seat, for once grateful for Mycroft's constant surveillance.

The whole journey I find myself fixated on the phone, trying to figure out why Sherlock had left it for me to find.

When we pull up at Mycroft's estate, I uneasily slide out of my seat and walk up to the door. As if on cue, it opens silently as I reach the top step. I walk in and ask the butler who had opened the door where I might find Mycroft at. "Third door on the left, sir," he responded politely.

Thanking him, I rush down the hall. I burst into the room without bothering to knock. Inside is Mycroft leaning against an oak desk, umbrella in hand. "Doctor Watson, how kind of you to join me on such short notice."

"Kind of difficult to refuse when you send a car to pick me up. What's so important that you need me so early?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

"My brother, as you are already aware. I see he gave you the pink phone as he was being arrested. No doubt he put on a good show to distract Lestrade. He was probably expecting a call from Moriarty, after suddenly becoming increasingly active again."

At that moment, with impeccable timing, the phone began to ring. I answered it quickly. On the other end was the voice of a teenage boy, about the same age as Michael. If I hadn't seen the body, I might have thought that is _WAS_ Michael. "I chose this one for the voice. Thought it might give you a shock. Mycroft isn't the only one with unlimited surveillance. To prove my point in exactly twenty seconds, the butler will be shot. Maybe you can save him. Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…"

I drop the phone, my army training kicking in. I run for him faster than I have run before. I tackle him to the ground just as the bullet crashed through the window above us.

Mycroft runs up behind us, phone in hand. He hands it to me. "Very good, Doctor Watson. You still have your soldier's instinct. You'll need it if you plan on saving Sherlock from prison. Because if you try to clear his name, I'll be forced to do all that is in my power to stop you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. But know this: I will stop at nothing until you are behind bars and Sherlock is free. Do you understand _ME,_ Moriarty?"

I realize too late what have done as the line goes dead almost instantly. "_SHIT!_" I yell. "I just killed a boy."

Mycroft tries in vain to console me. "You didn't do it, John. Moriarty did. It wasn't your fault."

"_DAMN YOU!_" I yell at him. "It was my screw up that made him do it. If I hadn't said his name, he would have let the boy live."

Reverting to a side not seen since an apparent time spent in the military, Mycroft changes tone. "At ease, Soldier. Sherlock needs you." He changes back to normal tones having had the desired affect. I suggest you begin by checking with his homeless 'informers'."

From his pocket, he pulls a large stack of ten pound notes. "This should be enough to find out where he was last night. IF you run out, call me, and I will give you some more. No need to use your own money for this."

Thanking him, I walk out the door. I pocket the money and get in the car that is waiting to return me to Baker Street. Once again, the pink phone begins to ring in my pocket.

When I answer it, I hear the voice of a young woman, probably fresh out of university. She is crying. "Try not to kill this one. Good hostages are so hard to come by these days."

"Go to hell. I'm not going to stop just because you threaten me or others. So you had better be at the top of your came. Because I will find you, and I _WILL_ put you behind bars."

I end the call, not wanting to hear his response. Getting out of the car, I yank the SIM card, not wanting to deal with him anymore.

Looking up about a block further, I see the familiar sight of one of Sherlock's 'informers'. "Time to fulfill my promise," I mutter to myself.


End file.
